


Like a Flower Craves Sunlight

by eridox



Category: Death Note
Genre: Inspired by Poetry, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 05:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4251291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eridox/pseuds/eridox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Mello leaves, Matt has to find some way to fill the hole. So, he smokes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Flower Craves Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was inspired by a poem i've had bookmarked for quite some time now! for more of this person's writing, you can go to their blog (http://childishnotions.tumblr.com/)

_"every cigarette i light burns bright as a star,_

_and countless stars will touch my lips_

_before i see you again"_

___

The first cigarette burned. His throat felt as if it was on fire, and he coughed for a good minute after the first puff. He sat by the window, fanning out the room, looking back at the door whenever he thought he heard someone approaching.

Mello had left a few weeks prior.

-

A problem child. That’s what Roger called him now. A problem child. Neglectful of responsibilities. Absent from classes. Disrespectful.

He found himself with a cigarette in his mouth more often. Instead of class, he spent his time in the darkness of his room, video game in hand and a cigarette resting between his lips. The screen’s light illuminated his face, and when he turned it off, the end of the cigarette glowed red.

A single star in a sea of black space.

-

They assigned him a new roommate, a kid a few years younger than him. He was small, frightened, intimidated by Matt’s presence, though Matt didn’t understand why until one day he looked in the mirror. He thinks he would be afraid too.

One night, as they laid in their respective beds, the boy—Matt had forgotten his name—garnered enough courage to ask about his previous roommate.

“There are just rumors and I…uh…”

Matt’s heart felt heavy in his chest. He turned to the kid across the room, though he couldn’t really see much, and spoke, a subtle harshness to his words. “His name’s Mello.”

And then he picked up his pack of cigarettes.

-

Matt was 16 when he left Wammy’s. He was tired of the monotony, was craving change like a flower craves sunlight, and he was willing to admit that he hoped to see him again.

He told his roommate the day of. They weren’t exactly friends, but weren’t enemies either. Rather, they shared a mutual respect that proved to be the only reason Matt felt the need to tell him.

“I’m leaving tonight,” he said, the game system in his hand tinted orange from his goggles.

“Okay,” the boy said simply, eyes going back to his work.

And so that night, he left through the window, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder as he maneuvered the House’s siding and hopped down to the neatly trimmed grass, sneaking off into the night.

-

He made money through hacking. Eighteen now, he found a cheap apartment. It was littered with junk food and uncomfortably warm from the countless monitors that lit up the room.

At some point he had given up on finding Mello. The thought of him no longer left him feeling sad or angry or in need of a cigarette.

That, of course, doesn’t mean the cigarettes stopped. He lit another (he lost count of how many he had at 26) and typed away on his laptop, eyes squinted in concentration.

He was going to fly to California tomorrow.

-

He didn’t expect to meet him in an airport.

He had just arrived in Los Angeles. Light poured through the large windows as the waves of people shuffled to their respective destinations.

He looked different. Very, _very_ different. In fact, Matt didn’t recognize him at first. And, judging by the look on the blonde’s face, he didn’t recognize him either.

But he approached him. His movements were loud, demanding of attention, and that’s how Matt was sure.

Mello stood in front of him. Mello. His Mello.

“What the fuck are you staring at?”

Matt couldn’t speak. He resisted the urge to reach for a cigarette.

-

It took a moment or two, but Mello eventually realized who he was. Matt wasn’t sure how he expected the reunion to go. He wasn’t even sure it would ever happen. He had so many questions. _How’d you get that scar? Where did you go? What did you do? Why are you in California? Why did you leave me?_

He didn’t ask any of them. Instead, he sat stubbornly, the anger he had as a teenager suddenly resurfacing. He dug in his pocket for a taste of his addiction, avoiding his gaze.

Mello apologized. Repeatedly. He could sense that Matt was upset.

_Of course he could._

-

It was a week or two later before Matt heard from him again. He wanted to question how he got his number, but Mello didn’t give him a chance to.

“I need a favor.”

From then on, they were together. Matt was a little angry with himself for how easily he gave in, but a part of him wanted desperately to have answers and to perhaps forgive him.

So he went to New York. He asked the questions that racked his brain for all those years. He learned of his activity with the mafia, of his search for Kira, and simply shook his head. It was so _typical_ of him. Matt came to the realization that, despite Mello’s outward appearance, he was still the aggressively ambitious boy he knew back at Wammy’s.

And for once, he didn’t find himself searching desperately for a cigarette.


End file.
